


Queen

by londonmarie



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2020-01-13 10:11:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18466837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/londonmarie/pseuds/londonmarie
Summary: A small rewrite of parts of Season 7





	1. Chapter 1

Jealousy

Jealousy in regards to her sister was something that Arya was used to. Arya had been jealous of how their mother doted attention on Sansa when she did something lady like. Arya’s attention was always ways she could improve her behavior to be more lady like. 

Arya had been jealous of the relationship Sansa had with Robb. She was jealous of how Robb always took Sansa’s side whenever the two of them got into a fight, no matter who started the fight. There were many times in which Sansa and Jeyene had provoked her. Mother would often sigh and say why can’t you be more like your sister Arya? Why is it so difficult for you to behave? Jealous of how the two of them looked like mother. Yes she looked like Jon and father, but they were male and she was female. To the point Arya had no females in her life that looked like her. Except a dead aunt. 

But in all her travels, the one thing that kept her grounded was Jon. He was her brother no matter who his mother was. In her darkest days the thought of him knowing her well enough to give her needle, saw her through those days. When she was training with the faceless men on her journey to becoming no one, having needle hidden tied her to Jon, which tied her to Winterfell, which made her Stark. While Jon was close to Robb and took care of Bran, Arya knew that she was his favorite because how alike the looked. Sansa had never been a threat to their relationship when they were younger. Now however it seemed like a different story.

When Arya returned to Winterfell she had heard the stories of Jon and Sansa being Ned and Catelyn reborn. She heard stories about how they healed the North together. Stories from those who were at Castle Black when Sansa had come to Jon. How they had embraced. Even some of the Wildlings declared them wedded even though they were siblings. Arya supposed that Jon and Sansa didn’t look like siblings helped the Wildlings over look that fact that they were related.

Arya thought that tongues would wag with the knowledge that Jon and Sansa shared a room and bed. But everyone seemed to understand that the horrors Sansa had faced would only be soothed by family. One night the Sansa’s screams had echoed through the halls, Ghost had been hunting, so Arya had slipped through Sansa’s door and crawled into her bed to silence her screams. But the screams wouldn’t be silenced. Ghost appeared in the doorway and gave Arya a look of disapproval. Arya traded places with Ghost. As soon as he laid down next to her Sansa’s whimpering, tossing and turning and screaming stopped. Arya slipped out of her sister’s chambers and went to her own. So much for the thought that any family would settle her.

When morning came Arya thought better of telling Sansa what she had tried to do. She watched her sister handle the complaints that the lords brought to her about Jon being gone. Arya admitted she believed Sansa unchanged by her time in King’s Landing. That she was still the same girl who wanted to be Queen and would stop at nothing to be so. If Arya was honest with herself, she thought that Sansa was trying to make moves to the Iron Throne. 

When Arya had gone to Bran with her concerns about Sansa’s behavior he hadn’t said anything to dissuade her of that belief. He had smiled at her with his strange new smile as if he knew something she didn’t.

“It will all work out as it’s supposed to Arya.” He said Arya had stared at him in shock. She had laid her fears of Sansa doing something to Jon, to take his title away. Arya had seen the way Littlefinger looked at Sansa, and the coolness that Sansa looked at him with. It was a practice coolness that Catelyn had instilled in Sansa and tried to instill into her. But Arya was never able to master it. It was a way to mask your love, your hatred, your devotion, every emotion for someone, so that they couldn’t be used against you. That’s what Catelyn had said. Arya had heard about Littlefinger while she was hiding in King’s Landing. She heard rumors of how he sold Sansa to the Boltons. Yet if that were true then shouldn’t Sansa be doing everything she could to get away from Littlefinger to find a way to get him out of Winterfell and back to whatever hole he crawled his way out of? 

But no, Sansa had him as one of her closest advisors. While Jon was gone Littlefinger had circled in closer to Sansa, if the rumors among the smallfolk could be believed. Arya had arrived when Jon was gone so she hadn’t seen him interact with Sansa yet. But she didn’t really see how their relationship could have changed so dramatically from when they were children. The hatred that Catelyn Stark had imposed into Sansa could not be removed so easily, could it? 

She had followed Baelish around Winterfell, saw him speak in hushed whispers to those that were loyal to him. Saw him pay a woman who held a place in the kitchen, for what Arya had yet to find out. She saw Maester Wolken give Littlefinger a scroll. Arya had waited until he had left his room to go inside and try to find the scroll. Eventually she was successful. It’s contents disturbed her. It was in Sansa’s hand asking Robb to forfeit his throne and crown. In the letter she called father a traitor. Arya felt herself go cold. Sansa was after Jon’s throne, with her eyes turned to the Iron Throne. This was the proof she needed to convince Bran and Jon, Sansa could not be trusted.

Arya left the room as she found it, never once thinking that someone was watching her from the shadows. Never once did she think that someone could outsmart her and her training with the faceless men. Petyr watched her with a smirk on his face. His trap to get the younger Stark girl out of Winterfell was set. Now he’d have to wait. Soon she’d play her hand and Sansa would have no choice but to banish her from Winterfell. Then he’d have the cripple and the bastard left to take care of. Then it would be him and his Sansa.

Arya confronted Sansa later that day asking her why she was afraid. Arya stalked closer to her sister, and saw her heartbeat in her throat. She used every skill of intimidation from the faceless men on her sister. Arya would lull Sansa into a trap. And she would have those in Winterfell turn against Sansa. When Arya was sure that Sansa would start begging for forgiveness Arya walked away. Leaving Sansa up against the wall panting in fear.

One day a raven flew into Winterfell, announcing that Jon was coming back home. Arya filled with excitement. She had heard some of the Wildlings that were at Castle Black talk about the look of wonder on Jon’s face, how he and Sansa had rushed to each other hugging fiercely. Arya couldn’t wait to feel his arms around her. She believed their hug would be whispered about just like Sansa’s and Jon’s was. 

Arya watched Sansa even more closely after the announcement that Jon was coming home. Littlefinger was seen closer and closer to her. Sansa seemed disappointed by something, probably Jon’s impending arrival, but she would not disclose what it was that was making her melancholy. Arya had a feeling that it was the fact that Jon was still alive. That Sansa was counting on the Dragon Queen to kill their brother. But that plan didn’t come through for her as she was hoping. 

Arya’s first piece of business with Jon would to give him a hug, then she’d knock his head around for leaving Sansa in charge when she obviously shouldn’t have been.


	2. Hidden-Interlude

Hidden-An Interlude

It was close to the wolves hour when she crept out of her chamber. She knew that she had to be quiet for was she was about to do. Her lover would be waiting for her inside the Godswood but she had to make a stop to the crypts first. She had to get approval of all those who came before her. And pray that all those who came after her would understand. It wasn’t as if her betrothed was horrid to look at, and he didn’t have a flat personality. It was just she wanted more in life than to be that of a broodmare, which if she was honest with herself, that it all she would be if she married the man that was picked for her. The love that she had went deeper than anything she had ever felt in her entire life. And when he first entered her, she felt all those things she assumed all women felt when they found the one they were meant to be with.

She had to make everyone understand why she was doing what she was about to do. The love she felt could tear the Seven Kingdoms apart. And if there was anything to live by it was that the anger of the Targaryens would decimate all life it could. And that is precisely what she and her lover was trying to prevent. Prevent the burning of the Seven Kingdoms, prevent the losing of her father’s head and her own head, plus that of her lovers. Aerys was not a romantic in anyway and he would not hesitate to burn her house down to the ground.

As she entred the crypts a deep silence settled in her bones and for once she knew that she was making the right choice. In the end everything would come to light and all would reign peacefully. She carried with her a box that would reveal the truth and she knew that one of her brothers would find it. They were always playing in the crypts. Hiding from each other waiting to scare one another or even her. Yes it time peace would regin and she would sit on the Iron Throne along side her lovers’ throne and they would create eternal peace in the Seven Kingdoms.

She carefully dug behind a small platform that one day would hold a statue of a dead loved one. She worked to make sure that the ground looked undisturbed with her digging. She didn’t want the box to be discovered too soon. If it was all the plans she made would be like words in on the wind. Meaningless. She had to make sure that for the time being the box would remain hidden. Once she felt the hole was deep enough she put the box inside and began to cover it back up. And she made sure that any excess dirt was scattered around the dig site so no one would be the wiser.

Silently she made her way out of the crypts and up to the Godswood. She took one last look at what had been her childhood home where she grew up and learned to ride, sitting at her father’s knee taking in stories of his youth and battles he faced for the King Aerys. Tears began to well up in her eyes and she knew that this would be the last time she saw her home. For she knew that the shame her father would see in her, he wouldn’t see the goodness that was in her actions. 

She turned from her childhood home and went to where her lover was waiting on a single black steed. They were both dressed in matching black clothes, they had many miles to go before they would be safe. As she approached her lover slid gracefully from the saddle to meet her.

“I was thinking you wouldn’t come.” Her lover said silkily.

“I would follow you anywhere.” Was her reply. At that her lover turned and Lyanna looked back at Elia Martell Targaryen and smiled.


	3. Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Petry has plans

PLANS

Petyr Baelish smiled as he saw the youngest Stark girl leave his room. He had seen her following him throughout each day. She had tracked him like an animal. He knew she thought she was being clever. But he didn’t have the Mockingbird as his sigil for nothing. He played the game of thrones better and with more skill than anyone else. And one day he would sit upon the Iron Throne with Sansa by his side when he let her from their bed or from her duties of raising their children. 

Arya Stark was much like the fool Eddard Stark, believing in honor and duty. The same foolishness would get her killed. Yes her fighting skills had far surpassed everyone he had ever seen fight. But as he learned, blades were not his weapons. No his weapons were secrets and whispers. 

Varys may have been the Master of Whispers but, Petyr had excelled in the skill as well. He and Varys varied in their methods. While Varys only relied on whispers, Petyr knew the currency of proof. Whispers were just that, whispers. Words are dust, no, any real skilled master knew that there was need of proof. So he laid a path for Arya Stark.

In honesty it worked in his favor when the bastard to leave Winterfell to go seek the dragonglass. It was a foolish mission. The dead could not walk, the dead were dead. Petyr snorted, the foolishness of the bastard would get him killed.

It occurred to Petyr, that out of all his children the young Arya and the honorable Jon were just like their father. The parts and pieces that got him killed would get those two killed. Petyr thought that perhaps the return of her siblings would turn Sansa against him, but it turned out she was smarter than he realized. The two youngest Starks filled him with unease, something about the two of them was off. He couldn’t place what it was but they were distractions to his endgame. Distractions to the beautiful picture he had painted for Sansa. 

At first he did want to help her because of her connection with his love Catelyn. But as time wore on, Petyr found himself drawn to Sansa for herself. Yes her looks filled him with desire, as had his Cat’s looks. But as Sansa showed her loyalty to him, Petyr couldn’t help but dream of her underneath him. He knew that the Bolton bastard would break her in for him. When he first gave Sansa to Ramsay he was filled with jealousy. Petyr wanted to be the one to take her maiden head, but he knew that Sansa had to be completely intact for the Boltons. Otherwise he would never have their loyalty.

When Petyr heard that Sansa had escaped with the Greyjoy boy, anger course through him. He worked too hard to get her into Winterfell, worked too hard to have her trained for his pleasures. Baelish wanted to go to Winterfell and rip Ramsay apart for letting her flee. Petyr knew that she would go to the Wall. To her bastard half brother. To the person that brought his Cat shame. And to a place where he had no spies. He had to rework his plans. 

Petyr was supposed to ride in with the Knights of the Vale and rescue Sansa, and she would be so broken, that his rescue would cause her great joy, and a need to thank him. A need that would make her his wife. But he needed to find a new approach. Yes the Knights of the Vale had rode in and secured the victory of Winterfell, but Petyr wasn’t the one to present Sansa with her moment of vengeance. It was the Bastard that did that.

He started to put in plans to poison this new King in the North, when it was announced that he would go to Dragonstone. Sansa had looked at him in fear. This admittedly confused him. But he put that down to the fact that she had never ruled over a house, let alone a Castle and a Kingdom. He sent ravens to King’s Landing filled with veiled truth. Baelish had started to fill the mind of Cersei to let him have Sansa as wife. Of course he wasn’t obvious about it. He also couldn’t afford to put it into every letter. But it was small, and honestly something he had started in King’s Landing, before the war of the five kings even started. It was going to be his revenge on Cat and Eddard, but as time progressed it was now his desire.

When Sansa told him she wanted him to go to the Dreadfort to make sure that the former residents of the Boltons would stand behind her as Queen when she finally took her place as Queen in the North, Petyr wanted to send someone else in his stead. He didn’t want to be separated from her. He wanted to be near her always.

“You must go.” Sansa ordered. “I trust that you’ll be able to rally their support for me.” She had turned her Tully blue eyes on him, and Petyr was lost. He would go and rally support for his love. And once they were successful in securing Sansa’s place as Queen of the North, they would get rid of the Bastard and then they would take King’s Landing. 

The Dreadfort was boring to him. No one offered a challenge as his men came through and slaughtered every single man and boy in the keep. No one was to be left alive. Petyr figured that he would stay for a few days, partake in the women that were left alive. Any that were caught trying to flee were to be executed. For some time Petyr had maintained a celibate lifestyle, saving himself for Sansa, but with her being so close to the “throne” in Winterfell, Petyr knew that he needed to let off some of his more frightening tendencies, before he took Sansa to be. He knew that his tastes in bed would scare her away. Perhaps that was what Bolton should have done before he took Sansa.

Yes he knew about what kind of debauchery that Ramsey preferred. Knew what he liked to do to the women he bedded. Though Peytr found what Bolton like disturbing, he knew that Sansa would find his own desires alarming. Nothing like what Catelynn had prepared her children, specifically her daughters for. He knew or at least thought he knew what Eddard Stark was like in bed. He was probably as boring in bed as he was out of it. Too honorable to try anything a little risqué. Poor Catelynn had to suffer under the oaf. Never knowing what true pleasure was.

Peytr looked at the young redhead lying in his bed. She was flipped on her stomach exposing her reddened back. The young girl had clenched around his cock delightfully. And she had whimpered and begged him to stop flogging her all the while producing more and more of her cunt juices to guide him further and further inside her. She had claimed to be a virgin and yet Peytr doubted it, even though she had bled like one. The way she kept begging him to continue pounding in to her once he tired of flogging was something of that of a wanton whore.


End file.
